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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28454319">A New Home for Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste'>Saraste</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FICMAS 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Cooking, Domestic, Ficmas, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Meet-Cute, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:00:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28454319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After tragedy has struck, Thorin moves into new house with Fili and Kili... five days before Christmas Day. A chance meeting in a local Tesco's may be the strat of something wonderful.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FICMAS 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A New Home for Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: new house for Christmas by</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This was a new beginning for all of them and Thorin hoped it would work, as he didn't want to uproot the boys more than what they already had been. It would have been better if the move had been managed earlier, but there was nothing to it now, what's done was done and they were home now, finally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A new home in time for Christmas, their first with just the three of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some days he could hardly believe that it had been less than a year. But this was what they had now, their now and their future, and he would make his utmost to give the boys as loving a home as he knew how.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Do you like it?' he asked Fill, who was standing beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin held Kíli on his hip, the younger lad clinging to him and refusing to be put down just yet. The boy still felt too light in his arms, but was it any wonder after…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fill looked around the entryway and through to the other rooms where boxes still sat unopened, full of their belongings, a few of the sort that Thorin knew he might not be able to open for a while, but which the boys deserved to have. They were full of their parent's possessions not put into storage… those that had been left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both the boys had been here before and Fill had said he liked the place, as had Kili, forever his brother’s shadow. There were enough rooms for the three of them in the nice two storey house which had a nice back garden, a park nearby and a school. They were also still close where the boys had lived before, but couldn't any longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I still like it, uncle Thorin. Kee?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His younger nephew perked up at his brother's voice. He'd been upset by the move, but hopefully they wouldn't have to move again for a long time and could properly settle into the new normal of their lives, even when they would never forget.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Is fine,' was all Kíli said and it was enough from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Great,' Thorin said, taking that as a win, 'want to go look at your room?' </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys could have had their own bedrooms, but with the way Kíli was hanging on to his brother and sneaking into his bed at night, Thorin had decided that it would be best to give them the one room to sleep in and have the other as a playroom for now. It wasn't like they were lacking for space as Thorin even had a bedroom and a study both all to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fili took the lead in thundering upstairs as Thorin followed in Kili's wake, making sure the younger boy didn't trip, with an instruction of 'No running in the stairs' that fell completely to deaf ears, as he knew that it would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys’ room was furnished with their old beds on opposite walls with a window outlooking the garden between them, as well as a dresser. There was a stack of boxes by the door marked BEDROOM in thick black letters. The walls were already painted a deep blue, like in the boys’ old room and the ceiling was waiting for glow-in-the-dark stars Thorin was sure he’d still have to put in tonight. The beds were made, Thorin noted to his relief, reminding himself to thank Dwalin, so there was one less task to be done for the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christmas was in five days, which was not that much time to get everything put in its place, but he would have help tomorrow. Dwalin, with the help-not-help provided by Nori, had already arranged most of the furniture into the intended rooms, or so he assumed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They still needed a tree, which he was hoping to get the day after tomorrow. It would go in front of the sitting room window, just like… well, at least there were some new decorations, os it wouldn't seem too much like recreating what had been. And then there was the baking and Christmas dinner, which would necessitate a major shopping expedition and more skills than what he possessed, also possibly a babysitter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had his work cut out for him and missed Dís more than ever, now the rush of the move was done and he had time to think, not crammed into his old apartment with the boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some might say that the boys wouldn’t be fussed about him not recreating a full Christmas Dinner the way his Dis had done, like their mother had done and hers before that… but what the boys needed most was routine and familiarity, and he would like to get as close to before as he could with their family now so cruelly reduced. And he wanted to have a happy Christmas this first year in this new house, to start making their own memories and traditions even while they kept the memories of those lost alive and never forgot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Stars, unca Thorin!’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there was his task, for now, and the rest would fall into place, because it simply had to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin knew that he'd left the shopping far too late when he reached for the final chicken and his hand was almost knocked away by that of another man, good-looking at a glance, but an obstacle between him and a proper Christmas dinner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tightened his grip. 'Hands off, that’s mine.' His voice was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a growl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Oh, is it? Do you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> how to cook it?' the other man asked with a clear challenge ringing in his voice, apparently having the ability to suss out someone’s cooking ability with just a glance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Yes?' He couldn't stop the rise of his voice, he was just so tired, he was going to fall asleep where he stood if he stopped for a moment, he was sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'You don't sound exactly convincing.' The stranger tugged at the frozen chicken gently but firmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin held on, trying to shake off his tiredness because he was not missing out on this chicken, he wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I have to be,' was not a whine, it wasn't. ‘Look, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> this chicken more than you, I swear.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Why so?' The voice was gentler than a stranger should have been. 'If it isn't too presumptive of me to ask, that is.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man, late thirties to early forties at a glance, smartly dressed and with cold-pinched cheeks and soft eyes… Thorin was not going to start staring at strangers in a local Tesco’s and moon after them, he wasn’t. Yet, he couldn’t deny the man's undeniable attractiveness and maybe, in another life he could have… And he’d sounded so sincere, like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin had to swallow and still he felt his eyes starting to tear up, emotions coming to the surface because of an ill-slept night and the transition of moving. 'My… my sister-sons… my sister and her husband died this year.' It was easier to say it like that than sugar-coat it with evasive phrasing. Still hurt, but nothing would help with that besides time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Oh, I'm so sorry.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both silent after that, both still holding onto the chicken, neither conceding the other's victory. The fingers brushing against his felt warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Is it just you at Christmas dinner?' the stranger asked, finally, soft and soothing, when it was clear that neither of them wasn't going to back off any time soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin found himself so soothed that he replied without thinking. 'Yes, me and the boys, we…’ A Christmas without Dís, how could he ever? His voice wobbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Well, this might be awfully presumptuous of me, but… that's an awful big chicken to cook for only three people and me and my son are also just the two of us at Christmas, so perhaps we could…'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin looked at him, uncomprehending, because surely he hadn’t heard right, surely. 'What are you suggesting?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'That I cook that lovely bird for all of us and come join you and yours for Christmas dinner? It might... I think that the company of other children might do my boy good.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Are you sure you're not the answer to all my prayers?' The words slipped out before Thorin could stop them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stranger blushed. 'Now, now… does that mean you're saying yes?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Yes. Please.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Well, then,' the stranger let go of the chicken to offer his hand to shake. 'I'm Bilbo Baggins, at your service.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin put the chicken into his shopping cart and returned the handshake. ''Thorin Thrainul, at yours.' His face spread in what he knew was a rare smile these days as he clasped the smaller man's hand in his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe leaving the shopping to the very last minute hadn't been a complete disaster, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr Baggins, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bilbo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Thorin had to remind himself and the man in question gently corrected him while they talked on the phone setting up their plans was set to arrive to help prepare their Christmas feast at half past eleven on Christmas Day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin and the boys had spent the morning eating and opening presents and -- because they were going to have guests -- Thorin had demanded the boys get out of their pajamas and into trousers and knitted jumpers, himself attired much the same, even when he still got a bit wistful. He still vividly remembered receiving the jumper he wore from Dís just last Christmas, that brief hug before she had urged him to put it on and her beaming smile after he had done so. What a difference a year could make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a little somber by the time the doorbell rang, even when there was a fond smile on his lips as he watched the boys at play. A lego castle set was a favourite and his sister-sons were making quick work on it, actually carefully following the instructions provided in a leaflet. There had been books, of course, but those had been carefully set aside to be enjoyed later, as well as the customary knit-wear from Dwalin and Nori. Thorin had gotten a pair of new socks himself as well. Which he was now wearing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of him had been expecting to see Dís or Vili come into the room at any moment, smiling like they always had at Christmas, joining in on the madness. And then he’d remembered, had looked at the boys and assured himself that they were still there, and he needed to not fall apart for their sake. Well, at least try and fall apart only a little bit, if he did, he didn’t want the boys to think that grief was something they ever needed to hide, that it was alright to be sad and mourn for the loved one’s you had lost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a good thing that he had another adult coming in, as he had been tempted to add something stronger into his morning tea, which was warming his hands and body if not all the cold recesses of his grieving heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the ring of the doorbell Fili had raised his head and was now looking at him, lost in his thoughts with a half-empty mug of tea in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin shook himself and gave his nephew a small smile. ‘That’ll be Mister Baggins and his nephew, they are coming to help cook and eat our feast. I hope you'll be nice to little Frodo and play with him.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘We will, unca Thorin!’ Kili piped in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Yes!’ was Fili’s affirmation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin was nervous as went to answer the door. He had engaged in some last minute cleaning a little too late into the previous night and had shoved all remaining boxes into his study so they were out of the way, but he still felt that the house was unfinished, even if it was decorated. He wanted to make a good second impression on Mr Baggins, his first having been amidst harried shopping. Their late night conversations over the details during the last few days had left him more than smitten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Merry Christmas, Mr Baggins!’ he greeted, opening the door and letting a gust of cold wintery air into the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Said Mr Baggins stood on his front stoop red-cheeked and bundled up with red knitwear and a well-tailored winter coat in reddish brown wool. The boy standing beside him with dark curls just peeking out from under his knitted cap was done up in blues which, despite his cold-pinched cheeks, made him look a little like a storybook prince with his pale complexion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr Baggins offered him a smile. ‘Merry Christmas, Thorin! And please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> call me Bilbo. And I shall call you Thorin and we’ll be all set.’ His smile was absolutely disarming and engaging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was a man Thorin would like to get to know better and today could be the start of that. His heart felt instantly lighter. ‘Alright. please, come in. And this must be young Frodo?’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped to the side, allowing their guests entry and then closed the door behind them to keep the warmth in and the snowy, chilly winter air out. Despite it being a delight to have a white Christmas, it was best to keep the cold outside.</span>
</p>
<p><span>He knelt to be at the boy's eye level, knowing he was intimidating to little ones because of his height and bulk, and it was always best to meet them at their level, besides.</span> <span>‘Merry Christmas and nice to meet you, I’m Thorin Thrainul.’ He offered his big hand to shake.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The lad took it without much hesitation, his small hand drowning in Thorin’s gentle grasp. Frodo had the brightest blue eyes that met Thorin’s without hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin found himself liking the lad already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Nice to meet you, Mister Thorin,’ and a quick one, taking his cues from his uncle, ‘I’m Frodo Baggins. Merry Christmas!’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Well met, Frodo.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo had already divested himself from knitwear and coat and hung them up on the coat rack. He matched Thorin with a beautiful fair-isle jumper in shades of green accented with creamy yellow, though he'd paired itwith brown corduroy trousers with wool socks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked imminently huggable, but Thorin resisted the urge, even if he wasn’t sure exactly why, as Bilbo </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>looked at him fleetingly, had taken a step towards him, like he may have possibly wanted an embrace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There might have been a sigh, before Bilbo started to help Frodo with his own winter clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both suddenly heard the thundering sound of Thorin’s own boys running down the hallway before they saw them come, curious and possibly a little sugar-high after too many gingerbread cookies at breakfast. Thorin hadn’t had the heart to say no. Not this year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Merry Christmas!’ the boys chorused in unison, wearing identical grins that stretched from ear to ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I’m Fili and this is Kili!’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin was a little relieved to note that Frodo was dressed similar to them, though with jeans paired with his patterned jumper instead of the tracksuit bottoms the boys wore with their jumpers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> ‘Um, hi, I’m Frodo. Merry Christmas!’ Frodo’s greeting was a little more subdued, but he was smiling a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘We got a big lego set and are building a castle,’ Fili informed him, ‘wanna come?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frodo’s eyes lit up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Go on and play nice,’ Bilbo urged him before the lad could ask, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner with Mr Thorin.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin didn’t think he’d ever been called Mr Thorin by anyone under the age of ten in his life. It was oddly charming, in a way. Still, it had to be said. ‘Please, just call me Thorin if you will use my given name.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I’ll try to remember,’ Bilbo replied a little playfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys were already making their more than thunderous way up the hallway into the sitting room, an exclamation of awe could be heard from Frodo when they reached the room and he saw their Christmas tree, which looked rather fine, if Thorin did say so himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘How are you holding up?’ Bilbo asked when they were in the kitchen. He’d nodded somewhat approvingly at his admittedly sparse cooking paraphernalia after setting he bag he'd brought with him aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had felt like an oddly intimate inspection, even when it was just appliances, although Bilbo was in his kitchen on the premise that Thorin couldn’t cook anything complicated. His thoughts snapped to the question he’d been asked and he sighed. ‘I’m surprised that neither of them have had a big meltdown, though Kili missed Dis in the morning, as did Filli, but he handled it… with less tears.’ He couldn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> as that would be cheapening Fili’s feelings, or implying that he didn’t think the boy should miss his dead parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘It might still come. Frodo was just really quiet on our first Christmas, he seems to be doing better this year, when the grief is not so near.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin found himself picking at his jumper as he leaned against the counter. ‘They’re all I have left, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have to</span>
  </em>
  <span> make this work.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Christmas or life?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Both.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'It gets easier with time.' Bilbo gave him a little smile and reached to grasp his shoulder before he turned to look at their supplies. He wasn't dismissing Thorin, or so he felt, but because there were three boys waiting for and deserving a nice Christmas Dinner and neither of them were not prepared for an inept discussion about grief and big life changes. Both knew the basics of each other's situation and that was enough for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Thank you,' Thorin said, unashamed at the catch of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo met his eyes again and then sighed a little, likely girding his loins for the task ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Right, do you want to check on the boys before we get into cooking, because I surely do. I’ll be so involved with the chicken and veg-roast that I’ll have my hands tied for the next hour, at least, that I won’t be able to check on Frodo as much as I’d like. Also, where is your bathroom?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They checked on the boys, who were playing nicely together, admired the tree and Bilbo made use of the bathroom while Thorin went to the kitchen to get a start on things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Right,’ Bilbo said, entering the kitchen, ‘I hope you have a spare apron, I’ll also need a cutting board or two and a good knife, just to start with.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not having spent more than the tail-end of a shopping trip together it was still surprisingly easy to work with one another, falling into a nice camaraderie full of teasing light banter and ‘accidental’ bumping into each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chicken went into the oven first, well-seasoned, to be followed with a baking pan of root vegetables: lovely red, yellow and orange carrots, parsnips and potatoes, with onions and garlic, tomatoes set aside to be added later. There were potatoes waiting in their pot to be set to boiling for the mash and Bilbo was making a sauce while Thorin set the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Bilbo cooked, Thorin popped over to check on the boys a few times, but they seemed to be getting along just nicely, and he was not starting to read too much into that. Yet it would be nice if the boys got along if he and Bilbo became at least friends, if more was too much to be hoped for. He wished it wasn't too much to be hoped for. They had worked well together in the kitchen and the looks Bilbo had given him were not those of someone with only friendship in mind, or so Thorin hoped, fervently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was definitely getting ahead of himself with a man whom he had known less than three days. Even as he thought that he caught himself feeling sorry that Dís hadn't gotten to meet Bilbo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Definitely getting ahead of himself and letting himself be maudlin. He could be maudlin later, when dinner had been made and consumed and dessert as well. He just needed to get to that point, he could have a little cry when he was alone in his bed. For the boys, to give them as good a Christmas Day as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'... takes.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bilbo was speaking to him while he just stood there in the doorway like a right numpty. Thorin scrubbed his hand over his face. 'Sorry, can you say that again, I was miles away.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Clearly. I was just saying that you might want to pour the water out as the timer just pinged and the potatoes are ready.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Yes.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clear tasks with set steps, he could do this, he could. Get through the day, remembering the old while celebrating the new and all the future memories they would make together. Balance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He washed his hands and then poured the water out, sidestepping around Bilbo, who was stirring the gravy. He peeled the potatoes like his mother had taught him, rubbing them in a towel, which was quicker than using a knife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'That's a neat trick,' Bilbo remarked, 'also, do you by any chance own a gravy boat?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I don't know what that is, so most likely no.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Well, it doesn't always have to be fancy,' Bilbo mock-lamented. His phone pinged for the roasting vegetables. 'Right, I’ll just set this aside now, take out the vegetables and go tell the boys to go wash their hands, yeah? As the chicken will be coming out of the oven in less than ten minutes and the vegetables are just about right then.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Right.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin peeled the last of the potatoes as Bilbo tasked the boys with handwashing. He heated a bit of milk and added a generous amount of butter after mashing the potatoes and then mixed the whole thing into the best potato mash he could make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo came back in just as he was scooping the last of the mash into one of the few serving dishes that he owned, a nice ceramic bowl that was incidentally a nice rich red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Washing hands?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Uh-huh.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The oven timer dinged and they shuffled around each other again as Bilbo took out the chicken and arranged some of the vegs into a nice presentation dish he'd brought with him. The chicken, a mouthwateringly smelling masterpiece, got pride of place at the middle of the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys trundled in and eventually settled down. Everyone waited for Thorin. 'Thank you for this Christmas feast, everyone tuck in!'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chicken was amazing, as was its sauce. Thorin felt truly grateful at having run into Bilbo when he had, because there was no conceivable way that he could have ever managed to produce such a fine meal for them to feast upon. He had observed Bilbo as he'd cooked and had found out that putting together chicken really didn't seem to be that difficult, and the end result was perfectly seasoned and not dry at all. He could have done it himself with good instruction, but it was much better than Bilbo had, in the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a slight balm to boost his own ego, the mashed potatoes went down like a charm and he'd even made just enough, although there were no leftovers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the end of the meal everyone had full bellies and smiles on their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Right,' Bilbo said, moving his hair backwards a little and smiling happily, 'I'd call that a success.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin cast a sly glance at the boys, who were in different states of food coma. 'Seems the boys won't have any room for dessert, so we'll get to have it all for ourselves.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A chorus of denials and affirmations of dessert greeted this statement. 'Dessert!' 'I'm not full!' 'What's for dessert?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'All right, all right,' Thorin said, 'why don't you go play a little and I'll put the dessert together.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together he and Bilbo managed to shift the children towards the sitting room to continue their lego adventures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'What are you making for dessert?' Bilbo asked as he started stacking up the plates without being asked as Thorin was handling the leftovers into containers and into the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'A gingerbread trifle, it’s already in the fridge, waiting. Just need to whip the cream to put on top and add the last touches.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Sounds nice.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I'll also brew us two a pot of coffee.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Sounds even nicer.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin glanced out the kitchen window, where snow was steadily falling. Was it coming thicker than before? Did he hope it was? 'It'll be fine, I'm good with desserts and baked goods.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Does that mean I get to taste you cookies?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> flirting, he wasn't, couldn't, because if he was, he was equally as bad at it as Thorin himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were possibly perfectly matched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trifle was consumed in the sitting room, where the boys could be summoned from their play by the promise of the anticipated sweet treat. Thorin and Bilbo watched on as the boys demolished their bowls, all three sitting side by side on the rug beside the low coffee table, while the adults themselves enjoyed their own treat sitting side by side on the sofa, not necessarily as close as Thorin might have liked, and drinking their well-earned coffee, possibly with a side of some biscuits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was wonderfully domestic to sit with Bilbo like this, even if not quite close enough, but there was propriety to consider and the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a date with the fetching Mr Baggins-call-me-Bilbo, no matter what his mind might have liked to tell him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘That was a very wonderful trifle, Thorin, thank you.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I have my skills,’ Thorin replied, a little bashful, even when he was lapping up the praise. ‘I… actually made the jam myself.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo stared at him. ‘You cannot make a chicken for Christmas dinner, but you can make your own jam, trifle and these absolutely delicious cookies.’ As he spoke, he snapped the head off of a gingerbread reindeer decorated with white frosting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to Bilbo’s lips and was so preoccupied with his utterly uncouth staring that he said the first thing that came to his mind. ‘I’m good with my hands.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo might have sputtered a little. ‘If that was a pick-up line, I don’t think I’ve heard worse.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin, who’d had to look away when he realized what he’d actually said, looked back at him. His looking away had had the added benefit of him being able to ascertain that the boys were not making a mess of their second helpings of trifle, but had indeed gone back to their lego-play. There was currently a siege in progress, where Fili held the castle, while Kili and Frodo attempted to storm it with their lego army of medieval knights and pirates, while the castle was valiantly defended by a dragon, princess and some dinosaurs. But now his focus was back on Bilbo and he felt the blush on his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo was looking at him fondly and, winking cheekily at him, licked a little bit of  errant frosting from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was completely and utterly inappropriate, but completely innocent at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to look away. ‘It might have been a very poor attempt at that.’ His heart was beating a mile a minute. ‘But I’m not trifling,’ he said, knowing it was ridiculous even as he said it, but the sight of the almost empty trifle-bowl on the table had distracted him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo’s laughter was instantaneous and catching. ‘Oh, you’re even worse at this than I am!’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘That, I can admit,' Thorin sait when he could finally speak from his own laughter. 'Woefully out of practice.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how to cook a chicken and only lured me to cook it for you under false pretenses?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin was definitely blushing now and there was no hiding it, not when he felt the tips of his ears grow hot, which meant that his whole face was flushed as well. ‘Possibly.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Well…’ Bilbo looked at him, eyes bright, a smile on his lips that Thorin was absolutely not staring at and thinking about kissing. The fingers that had so efficiently chopped and stirred earlier were wrapped around a festive coffee mug decorated with snowflakes on a blue background. His eyes, when Thorin met them, promised more than what Bilbo might say in conversation when they were in the same room as all three of their charges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was good, a promise of </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>later </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Thorin would take it and be happy with it even if nothing happened tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wind was really starting to howl outside and a glance showed snow whirling wildly about outside the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘It really is snowing,’ he commented and did not even try to not sound a little hopeful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Hope we don’t get snowed in,’ Bilbo said, sounding like he wouldn’t be too beat up about it if they did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got snowed in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Thorin opened the front door after sitting on the sofa with Bilbo for hours while they watched the boys play, and hot chocolate with marshmallows and a tinful of christmas cookies and three sorts of pastries had been consumed at tea-time, both adults having opted for tea to waylay a sugar rush… some snow fell inside the door where it had been piling, his front garden was covered in at least a foot of snow and the road looked absolutely impassable with not a snowplow in sight, the weather service had also given out a hazardous weather warning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘We’re… we’re snowed in,’ he told Bilbo beside him, even when the man could clearly see it for himself. ‘And there’s a warning about hazardous weather and icy roads… which must be somewhere under all that loose snow.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked on as a hearty gust of wind blew a billowing cloud of snow across Thorin’s driveway. There would be no safe driving in that sort of visibility, and the snow was still coming as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Would it be too much of a stretch of your hospitality to ask if you might put us up for the night so I don’t subject poor Frodo to yet another car accident in less than two years?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Absolutely.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed the door after a rather feeble attempt at pushing the snow out, hoping that the door might not stick shut overnight. He did not hope very hard, even if he could scarcely admit it to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first practical thought was logistics. ‘Frodo can sleep with the boys and, uh… you can sleep on the sofa? Maybe.’ Because he simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> offer his bed and not sound like he’d be sleeping in there </span>
  <em>
    <span>with</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bilbo as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘But I have a bad back,’ Bilbo said, possibly a little deviously, ‘I couldn't possibly.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin stared at him, admiring his sneaky audacity and the nerve of him to be brave in a way Thorin had possibly forgotten how. ‘We do not have a questroom.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘So I noted,’ Bilbo said and… was he crowding Thorin against the hallway wall, despite his shorter stature?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, yes he was, definitely. And that was absolutely a hand against Thorin’s chest and a hand at the back of his neck, urging him to lean down. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now, and I won’t’ Bilbo said, his lips breath-close to Thorin’s. He had to be on tiptoe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin hunched more, letting his hands fall onto Bilbo’s waist. HIs voice was ragged. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo kissed him soft and sweet and Thorin leaned into it, trying to not get too carried away. It was a little bit difficult not to, because he had been touch-starved for adult intimacy for so long and hadn’t kissed anyone in an age, and not someone as lovely as Bilbo for even longer, possibly ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Bilbo who withdrew first and Thorin let him. Bilbo was a head shorter than him and his head fit perfectly snugly under Thorin’s chin, where he of course put it, leaning his body against Thorin as they stood in a tight embrace. ‘Well, that was lovely.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin squeezed him and couldn’t resist a kiss to his curls. They were right there. And it made Bilbo giggle as a bonus. ‘It was,’ he replied, finally. He hesitated, then spoke with a sigh in his voice. ‘And we might have to share my bed but we can’t… the boys…’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo patted his chest and breathed a gusty sigh against his neck. ‘I know we can’t, but I still wish...’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘We've known each other for all of three days. I think it might be best if we don’t, not so soon.’ He said the words even when he wanted that </span>
  <em>
    <span>too soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wanted it desperately, knew that Bilbo could feel quite how much so, pressed as close to him as he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I know,’ Bilbo sighed again and began extricating himself, ‘but a man can hope.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Raincheck?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo drew him down for another kiss, this one short, a peck they might exchange every day, if things went well. ‘Raincheck. Come on, we have to go explain to the boys that me and Frodo need to stay overnight.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys took the unexpected sleep-over well, Thorin’s sister-sons had really taken to Frodo and didn’t mind having to share their bedroom with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spent the evening playing board games until it was time for the boys to go to bed, never mind that both Fili and Kili claimed that they were not tired at all even though Frodo was visibly drooping, as was Kili.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin couldn't quite decide if it was the worst or best decision that he'd ever made when he'd agreed to Bilbo's nefarious suggestion, so innocently weiled in the suggestion about a poor back, of them sharing Thorin's bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was utter madness, either way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His bed was a twin and he had changed in fresh sheets while Bilbo had been coaxing Frodo to sleep in an unfamiliar space. It was good that all the bedrooms were on the same landing and even better that Thorin's bedroom didn't share an adjoining wall with the other two bedrooms. Not that he was thinking about starting anything, as the lads would most likely be climbing to bed with them before morning. Yes, he absolutely had to keep his hands off of mister Baggins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turned out that Bilbo liked chatting before turning the lights off and after, as well. And being handsy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'We </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't</span>
  </em>
  <span>,' he told Thorin </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissing him soundly, having initiated said kissing and pressing their bodies flush together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin felt like a teenager, having to be quiet in fear of someone hearing them. He managed to bite back his groan of frustration. 'Maybe you should take your hand away, then,' he advised, voice a strangled whisper, 'we're not free to indulge.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo sighed. 'I know... but this is such a nice handful, it's a shame to squander it.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Bilbo…'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Letting go.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wonder of wonders, he did, and Thorin was relieved even if one particular part of him was all but relieved. 'Thank you.' He cursed his common sense, as it now felt impossible that he might get to sleep at a decent hour, having gotten so hot and bothered by Bilbo's handling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'You don't sound very thankful,' came Bilbo's quiet answer from the darkness, as he’d suspected that it might, Bilbo being full of sass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Well that's because a part of me isn't, at all.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'And not a small part, either.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Stop the bad flirting or you'll sleep on the couch,' Thorin groaned, fervently wishing for a cold shower, which he couldn’t have in fear of waking up one or all of the boys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'What about my poor, decrepit, middle-aged back?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Bilbo…'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Thorin… that thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to go away on its own.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'It will if you shut up and stop thinking about touching it to make it go away.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'When did you develop mind-reading powers?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Go to sleep, Bilbo.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But despite his words, Thorin wanted a little desperately to be bold, he knew how fragile happiness could be and that they were a pair of consenting adults who ought to be allowed to indulge if they wished to do so. In short, he wished to be selfish for once, have something for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Decided, he quickly closed the distance between in the semi-darkness of the bedroom and kissed Bilbo soundly, rolling on top of him, made easy by the man’s easy acquiescence. He kissed him until he was breathless with it and wished for light to see Bilbo’s face better when he had to come up for air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both equally hard and the press of their bodied flush together was a sort of exquisite torture, yet he knew that he, at least, was on such a hair-trigger that it wouldn’t take much to get off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I thought I was supposed to stop thinking about touching you…’ Bilbo said softly into the semi-darkness, sounding breathless and amused. His hand came up to cup Thorin’s cheek, who moved to kiss that palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I was a fool,’ Thorin admitted easy now that he had taken the plunge. ‘Touch all you want. Please. We'll just be quiet.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Can we turn on the light? I’d like to at least see you if I can’t get to hear you.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin reached for his bedside lamp, the shift of his body making Bilbo squeak underneath him. He was glad that he could now see as he would have hated to miss that adorably flushed face. Which he had to kiss again. He possibly shifted restlessly against the pliant body under his until Bilbo began to squirm and put his hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Can we not come in our clothes like teenagers?’ Bilbo gasped, once he had gotten Thorin to stop and had managed to end up on top of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin didn’t think there could be a nicer sight than him astride his hips, charming even in the loose borrowed clothes. He possibly made a strangled noise. His hands definitely moved off of their own volition to take hold of that waist buried under all that loose flannel and cotton blend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Take this off,’ he said, sneaking one hand under the oversized shirt, which Bilbo obliged with alacrity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin had the advantage on him, not having worn a shirt to bed, though in hindsight he might have been better off doing so in the first place… or worse, as he now had the undivided attentions of the captivating Mr. Baggins bestowed upon his person and couldn’t be happier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo leaned in, shirtless and predatory, claiming his lips in a kiss, hands seeking out to touch and seemingly attempting to cup Thorin’s pecs, at least thumb at his nipples. His low groan was swallowed into that smiling mouth and he shifted restless but couldn’t get friction, not with the way Bilbo was sitting on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have just gone to bed completely naked and saved on the need to run a load of laundry come tomorrow with the way he was making a wet patch on the front of his pyjamas, cock straining against the fabric and tenting it, woefully ignored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands were free to move if he so chose, but with the way Bilbo had shifted to kiss him they had a much nicer perch on that lovely lush bottom of his and… he wanted Bilbo to touch him, to bring him off, to take hold of him and tell him to be quiet, shush him with kisses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Put your hands on me,’ he managed to get out once Bilbo had to break the kissing to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo chuckled and tweaked both his nipples at once. ‘I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> touching you, love.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man was going to be the end of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t say such things this soon</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to say, but didn’t, because he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t come out as </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell that to me always for the rest of our lives</span>
  </em>
  <span> might have been what came out instead and it was too soon for that after three days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’ He’d tried keeping the growl away from his voice but hadn’t quite managed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a good thing that Bilbo seemed to like it with the way he kissed him, hard and unyielding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a moment’s work for him to move and for them to get the waistband of Thorin’s pyjamas down and Bilbo’s hand where it was most needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin moaned into Bilbo’s kiss as he came with Bilbo’s increasingly familiar body pressed against his side and his hand doing filthy and wonderful things to him, messy and perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo breathed hard against his neck, sticky hand carelessly wiped into Thorin’s pyjamas, which he hadn’t had the chance to protest, laying limp and breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully the question of how long wasn’t asked, Bilbo simply moved restlessly against his hip, seeking friction, alerting Thorin to his need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Hand or mouth?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Ngh,’ Bilbo stopped moving against him, ‘you can’t ask those kinds of things, how am I to choose?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘You’re too loud, so I’m saying hand.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bilbo fitted into Thorin’s hand like they had been doing this for years and were barely more than acquaintances even if the unspoken wish for more that he was quite sure that they shared. Bilbo squirmed most delightfully under Thorin’s touch and he delighted in swallowing all his noises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After Bilbo came into his hand they kissed and giggled like teenagers, shushing each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually reality set in and they changed soiled clothes for new ones and deemed the sheets not in need of a change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eventually fell asleep in each other's arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin woke up with his hard cock digging into Bilbo's nicely plush backside, his arm around his waist. It felt too effortlessly intimate too soon and too fast, yet he could scarcely deny himself the comfort of it. But grinding himself off against a virtual stranger, never mind that they had spent Christmas together and shared some rather nice orgasms, was not a thing to be done when the other person was still asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shot up in bed when he realized, his movement jostling Bilbo awake, and he looked absolutely adorable morning rumpled and soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'What time is it?' was mostly an incomprehensible yawn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Early. But the boys---'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Yes, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> too quiet, isn't it?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, closer inspection revealed that the boys were indeed all still asleep, so they could tiptoe downstairs to have some adult conversation and much-needed coffee. It was 8am, so it was still a bit too early to be up on a holiday, but the kids would be awake sooner rather than later. Thorin let Bilbo go before him, just so he could ogle at how adorable he looked with Thorin’s borrowed clothes hanging loose on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked out of the kitchen window towards the snow, which seemed to have doubled overnight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Oh, no, we're still snowed in,' Bilbo said, his voice not at all worried, 'what shall we do now?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Starve,' Thorin replied with the same flat tone Bilbo was using, making his statement very deadpan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I do hope not,' Bilbo laughed, deciding to be bold and kissing Thorin, 'though there's no-one I'd rather starve to death with than you,' he finished with his hands around Thorin's neck, even when he had to be on tiptoe for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Your humour is very dark, and deplorable, did you know?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'No, absolutely no-one has ever told me in all my life.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'So I'm the first.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I ---'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But whatever Thorin had been about to say was interrupted by a chorus of three hungry boys, especially Fill, who demanded that he 'Stop giving Mister Bilbo a cuddle and make breakfast!' Apparently all of the boys were starving, absolutely and completely famished and couldn't go on a minute more before succumbing to hunger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thorin was released to start on toast and coffee, while Bilbo once again chivvied the boys into washing their hands. There was also untoasted bread and three sorts of jam. Thorin was still setting up the table when his unexpected Christmas date, as really, what else could one call someone who’d shared your bed and a slew of delightful kisses, and the three boys returned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boxing Day was better than Thorin might ever have hoped it to be, with the way their lives were, proving that the unexpected could be a gift and he could find happiness if he just grasped for it when the opportunity presented itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His only regret was that Dís wasn't there to see it, but he found comfort in the thought that maybe she still knew, somehow, and would approve of the direction he was taking his life. It was too soon to bag Bilbo as a sure thing, but he would always be a part of the memories they made of this first Christmas and that would be something no-one could take away.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p>
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